What do you need?
by moonbird
Summary: Most people seem to think Molly some-how helped Sherlock survive the fall, and that was what he needed.  I how-ever think that is a decoy sat up to trick the viewer.  This is what I personally think happened that evening, What Sherlock maybe asked for
1. Chapter 1

Ever since Molly had first met Sherlock, she had been drawn to him, but not for the usual reasons.

The women who had sighed after Sherlock so much, particularly after he became a phenomena, they kept talking about how cool and cat like he appeared, how smart he was, how sexy it was he could deduce every-thing so quick and how inspiring it was he always said what he meant, how out of worldly and mysteriouse he could be, so unlike normal every-day people. Even more they talked about his looks, his dark curls, hawk like face and tall frame.

Molly supposed all of that was true enough, and attributes worth admiring and be attracted to. But that wasn't it.. that wasn't it at all.

From the moment Molly had first met Sherlock Holmes, she had become sad, because he looked so sad, always. And Molly's inner kind woman wanted nothing more than to some-how ease his sadness, some-how give him a little peace of mind.

Only to fast did he begin to be so much in her mind, she wanted to do some-thing nice for Sherlock, then maybe he could smile just a tiny genuine smile, so she offered small welcoming helping gestures. She wanted to learn to know him better, make him know she were there for him, so she asked him out.

And yet each time, it had end in hurt. Sherlock always ended up hurting her, even without meaning to, and Molly kind of knew, all her affords of trying to help, they hurt him to.

And that was why Molly asked herself, why did she keep going through it? What was the purpose? Was there a purpose..? there had to be. Otherwise she and Sherlock couldn't keep on hurting each other that much, even though they had so little to do with each other. She only wished she knew her purpose in this sad story so she could deal with it and get over with it so she could finally move on with her life.

And yet, as her purpose presented itself, Molly was cursing her wish.

It was after a long days hard work of cutting up bodies and identifying corpses, Molly had just turned off the lights, only to receive the biggest scare of her life.

"You were wrong.."

Molly gasped as the voice had seemingly come out of no-where and she spun around, to shocked witness Sherlock sitting there, what was more a shock though was his next words.

"You do count, you always counted."

What Molly caught on more though.. was that sadness he had always carried around, for as long as she had known him, now though he didn't hide it, he didn't even bother to hide it, as if it didn't matter any longer. Some-thing had to be wrong.. terrible terrible wrong.

"Molly." he surprisingly softly spoke her name as he took a slow careful step towards her. "I think I am going to die."

"What do you need?" it was the first question on Molly's lip, she wanted to help him! that was all she wanted, just to help, and this time in his hour of need, she wouldn't want to screw it up again.

"If I wasn't everything you think I am.. everything that I think I am.." with each sentence Sherlock moved closer, his otherwise always so emotionless voice now filled with sadness and a little bit desperation. "Would you still help me?"

"What do you need?" Molly asked again without hesitation, never having been more sure of any-thing in her entire life.

Even as Sherlock stepped closer, now finally so damn close, mere inches away, so she could feel his breath on her face and his wet eyes looking into hers, pleading their silent plea. "You." he simply said.

Molly didn't breath a word waiting for instructions.. she didn't dare the screw this up.

"Please.." Sherlock whispered. "Stay.. I'm ahh.. I'm.."

"Afraid." Molly whispered trying to hold back her own tears.. Sherlock knew he was going to die, just like her father before him.. and there was nothing Molly could do, other than just be there. "It's okay.." she held her breath trying to find out what to do next, then did some-thing she would never have dared to do before, not even for a second would she have had to courage before now, she reached forward and gently took Sherlocks hand, and squeezed it.. then without saying a word she guided him to the bench for guests.. it was hard and uncomfortable, but duable..

They sat there, Molly holding Sherlocks hand for comfort, and Sherlock holding back tightly as to draw what-ever comfort he could, it couldn't be much, as Molly glanced down at their hands hers was so small and tiny, disapearing into Sherlocks hand, then she looked up at his face, which looked stiffly out in the room, without seeing, but thinking, as he always did, yet this time it was apparent he tried to solve an impossible problem, and he was trapped yet unable to rest. "Are you tired?" Molly asked Sherlock.

"No." Sherlock merely responded.

"You can lean on me if you want." Molly told. "I'll keep watch."

Sherlock blinked, and then looked confused at Molly. "I.." he stated in a confused voice. "I don't know how."

His admission was so simple and a little childish, Sherlock wouldn't know how to lean against a woman in comfort, how would he know? The mere idea had to be quite foreign to him. In a slight sigh Molly guided Sherlocks head down on her chest where he could simply rest in her tight embrace, at first he seemed tense and uncomfortable in this unfamiliar situation, but soon Sherlock had found his position and his grip in Molly's hand tightened as he waited.. waited in silence.. for his death in the morning.

Molly refused to cry, tonight the parts were reversed and she would be the strong one keeping up a face and be on the look out as only a woman watching over some-one she cared for could. But it was indeed cruel, so this was her purpose? This of all things? She was here to ease Sherlocks wait in his last hours. Finally she was helping but at what price? Had this always been her purpose? Was this to be the conclusion on this sad story? The story she could never affect or do any-thing about, she was just a minor character randomly thrown in, always had been.

And that was how they sat, till the break off down where Sherlock suddenly straightened up, let go of Molly's hand, and his mask was back on his face as he fixed his coat collar. "I shall have to go, John will be here at any minute, you should get home and get some sleep as well miss Hooper." he stated as he stood up in his full height, his moment of weakness were over, and he probably wouldn't want to show any weaknesses by saying thank you or any-thing like that.

Molly couldn't help herself, even though Sherlock was half way across the room she sprung up and ran to him to embrace him in a tight hug. "Please forgive me." Molly asked as she was putting up a brave fight to keep back the tears. "But, ones you are out of that door, I am probably never going to see you again, I know that. So what-ever I have to say I better say it now don't I?" she asked.

Sherlock silenced, not removing her or any-thing, not even retorting.

"I just wanted you to know that I am _glad _that I met you, even though you were good at hurting me without meaning to I am _happy _to have known you, it's been well.. interesting." Molly chuckled to herself as she finally let go looking up at Sherlock whom looked a tiny bit confused down at her. "I would ask you to stay, but I know it's useless." Molly sighed deeply. "You always did what you wanted and what made the most sense to you, look at me spoiling it all with all of my stupid talk again." she bit her lip. "I do talk to much don't I?"

"Yeas." Sherlock answered in his usual honest way making Molly smile amused. "But you shouldn't change." he then said and without warning grabbed her shoulders to turn Molly around so he suddenly stood behind her, lowering his head."I know why people don't like me, and it's fine, I don't like them. But I know why they don't like me, it's because they can't hide from me." Sherlock whispered into Mollys ear. "As I look at this room, nothing is hidden from me." he made Molly turn around, though was at all times behind her, as if just letting her have a look. "You may just see a smushy wall I know exactly whom it is who has this bizarre lust for intercourse at this place." Look with me.. that was his underlying tone.. see the world as I see it. "People always try to hide, lie, lies to the persons whom they supposedly care for, supposedly as to not hurt their feelings, alcoholics saying they don't drink, people telling other people they actually hate that they like them. So many lies and secrets, I hate them, I wish people would just say it as it is and move on." he stated spinning Molly around. "And none of them can hide from me, I can't stop seeing it, it isn't some-thing you just turn on and off at will. I can't change how I see it. Some-times I even wish it so I don't have to see all that smush, deal with all those lies." Sherlock stated turning Molly around so they were facing each other ones more. "You never ones tried to lie to me or tried to convince me of a lie, you realise how rare that is?" he asked her.

Molly shook her head, holding her breath.

"Don't change." Sherlock asked of her. "And have a good life where you wont be hurt to much."

Molly nodded tears finally filling her eyes. "I will." she stated and tiptoed to give Sherlock a last little kiss, on his left cheek, the same place he had placed a kiss on her cheek last christmas, before it finally became to much for Molly and she turned around to storm out, wiping the tears away from her eyes, only barely dodging John Watson on the outside whom was on his way in, he looked a little confused after her but then at last shrugged and went inside.. only to very few minutes after that, storm out to get to 22B Bakerstreet quick as possible, fearing for his landladies life, allowing Sherlock to walk up on the roof top and meet his own faith with a raised head.


	2. Chapter 2

It felt so odd now. Standing there in front of a black tomb stone, merely spelling his name. "Sherlock Holmes." and the dates of his birth and his death.

That was all, no small uplifting words of how beloved he had been, no final comments on what he brought, not even a little random line of lyrics. Just the name on a black marble stone.

Molly sighed deeply as she unravelled the white lilies she had brought, it was valentines day and this year she didn't have a date, it perhaps felt a bit ironic to go visit a grave just because she didn't have a date, but it felt right.

Just as Molly was about the put the white flowers on his grave, arrange them a bit, Molly discovered she had not been the first visitor that day, on the grave also laid, a single scarlet red rose.

Molly had no idea whom it was from, perhaps a fan girl whom didn't really know Sherlock Holmes but had crushed on him... Sherlock would have found that highly annoying.

But regardless, Molly didn't want to smearer the unknown visitor and made sure her white lilies didn't cover the scarlet red rose, but placed the rose on top of them, it looked rather well.

Suddenly, Molly got the feeling that she was being watched, slowly, ever so slowly Molly turned her head, and on the bench behind her, with view of the graves, was there indeed some-one looking straight her.

It was no one Molly knew nor recognised how-ever, the woman whom sat there looked extraordinary sophisticated, elegant, beautiful, and yet there was some-thing about this woman, some-thing dangerous and not all that sophisticated. It was the kind of woman whom gave women like Molly low self esteem, simply because that woman was the very meaning of all you combined with the ultimate woman. Strong, independent, illusive, sophisticated, smart.. every-thing.

Molly averted her eyes from the woman, and took a deep breath before heading back, she would have to walk pretty close to the bench, but as long as she kept her eyes down, there shouldn't be any problems, should there?

"Thank you, that was very kind of you." the woman spoke as Molly was the closest.

"Oh erh.." Molly blushed deeply, daring to shortly look at the woman. "It was nothing really, any-one would have done that."

"I wouldn't." The woman stated simply. "I would have thrown that rose away in jalousie, and replaced it with my own."

Molly blinked, not really knowing what to say about that.

"That's the trouble about being desperately in love." the woman sighed. "Especially when it's some-one out of your reach, you so terrible easily get possessive."

"You and Sherlock?" Molly asked a bit unsure. "You were...?" she didn't quite know how to finish that sentence.

"I like to think I left at least some kind of impression." The woman stated crossing her legs while pulling a cigarette, of cause each and every-one of those movements just made her look even more sophisticated in a feminine sort of way. "I beat him at his own game and then drugged him upon our first meeting, then after an entire year of playing around he finally beat me back, only to safe my life as I was about to become executed at the other side of the globe. My dark knight in armour." the woman smiled to herself as she sucked the cigarette. "Travelled across half the world just to safe little me. He may tried to ignore me, but that did indeed feed my vanity."

"Sounds... very interesting." Molly hesitated not really sure what to do with this information. "So you knew him very well?" she asked.

"Well enough to not believe my own ears." The woman stated looking at the grave stone. "It took a bit longer for the news of his death to reach me, and I didn't know what to make of it, took me long enough to even get here, and I have to go away again tomorrow. Britten is not safe for me. So how did you know Sherlock?" the woman asked.

"I... some-times got to work with him." Molly hesitated.

"Interesting, you are from the police?" The woman asked. "I have to warn you, if you say yeas I shall have to knock you unconscious and flee right away."

Molly blinked. "No, no I am not with the police.. well sort of.. I am a doctor biologist, I erh." Molly blushed deeply looking down on the ground. "Do autopsies on people who died an unnatural death. I work closely with the investigation labs."

"Oh I could go over there and stamp on your lilies right now." The woman gritted looking genuinely jealous.

Confused Molly looked at the woman.

"He would have to work through you, on almost all of his cases." The woman gritted even more tightly, and still that didn't make her look any less elegant, even un-earthly.. a little like Sherlock. "I know how he is Sherlock, there's very few people he likes and he picks out who it is he wants to work with." she stated. "I know, I watched him long enough, he picks precisely and carefully whom he even bothers to search out more than ones." the woman bit together. "So he chose you among his little selected group. All the times you got to help him with his little cases, see him solve it so brilliantly. with his sexy smarts."

"Oh.. it wasn't like that.." Molly told honestly. "In fact when he did his brain thing, it often ended with.." she sighed deeply, this woman might found Sherlocks quick deductions downright sexy, they had always ended up hurting Molly. "I did want to help, but he just wanted me to open body bags."

"That is far more than I ever got to do." The woman told in a slight pout showcasing her red lips before throwing down her now half smoked cigarette, to step on it with her smart high heeled shoe. "Why must it be so difficult to love that man?"

"I wouldn't know, I didn't.." Molly flustered.

"Who are you kidding, of cause you did, let me correct myself, you do love him." The woman told Molly. "It's quite obvious."

"But.. it could never work." Molly muttered. "I could never understand him, why he would have to be so.. cold on the façade." Molly sighed and then she sat down on the bench beside the woman, never before would she have imagined to sit beside a woman like that, talk casually to her, but right now it just felt right. "I first get it now, he always tried to make people around him understand what he saw. He tried to explain, he wanted us to see the world the way he did." she shook her head. "The last thing he ever said to me.. he tried again, tried to let me see the world the way he does. It was his good-bye present, I think I understand a little better, but not much I am afraid. it scares me a little how different he views every-thing."

"I'm fascinated by it." The woman told smiling for herself as she sucked on her cigarette. "It's the most endearing fascinating thing I ever encountered in all of my life, it crawled under my skin, tingled my spine, it was delightful. And that day where he showed me how he see things, I gladly jumped with him out at the crime-scene, it was deliciously endearing." she stated.

"I think he was a bit to far into that world of his." Molly sighed. "He could have lived, be more pleasant had he chosen.. then maybe he could have been a little more happy a little more often."

"How interesting." the woman reflected leaning forward. "You love him for his humanity.. that is why it would never work between him and me either, I love him for his inhumanity you see. and you my dear are lucky that I have not yet knocked you out and trashed your lilies." the woman sighed as she stood up from the bench, gathered her long fur coat around herself looking so very beautiful. "I was never what he needed, not for a second. You were, I hope you realise how lucky you are." the woman at last stated before walking away, down the cemetery, as had nothing peculiar happened at all.


	3. Chapter 3

It was now an entire year ago, some-times it felt like it was another life time, some-times it felt just like yesterday that Molly would see Sherlock Holmes, almost on a weekly basis. Feel her chest ache as they would part in hurt, cheating herself for even caring.

"honestly darling." Her best friend Amanda chatted to her as they sat at a caffee at Molly's lunch getting a bit of lunch and some tea. "You are to impossible."

"What?" Molly blinked. "Me?" she asked confused. "What do you mean impossible, I don't think any-one ever described me like that before." in fact she was positively possible and boring as far as Molly knew.

"They should." Amanda stated pulling back her short dark hair which were very smartly cut, matching how smartly Amanda was just in general dressed. "You are impossible nice, do a favour for me sweet-heart, go out and do some-thing nice for yourself." she stated.

"Oh." Molly blushed deeply. "No.. not today." she whispered glancing at the television screen in the corner of the cafe' showing footage of Sherlocks fall, marking this one year date of that advent.

"It should not be possible to be so nice, and then you are so hard on yourself to." Amanda grumbled on. "Go on a speed-date, drink a guy dry for money, any-thing Molly, go out with me this weekend. Sweet-heart, you are to damn nice to not being treated to some-thing nice, mostly from yourself."

"I'm not that nice." Molly blushed deeply.

"Sweety, if nice and pure was a human being, I'll be looking at her right now." Amanda snorted.

Molly blinked as she looked up staring at some-one who stood up at the counter with the back to her. "Me to.." she barely whispered.

Amanda blinked, and then turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of what-ever Molly was looking at. "You mean the short one?" she asked. "Guy with the sweater, who's he?" she asked now sounding genuinely curious.

"Oh, it's not important." Molly muttered taking a sip off her tea as to escape the subject, only to get a demanding look from Amanda. "It stopped being important a while ago." Molly then explained.

"Oh I see." Amanda sighed. "Another not returned love story ay?" she asked.

"No." Molly shook her head. "Well yeas but not like... it's really complicated." she then at last muttered her eyes still fixed on John Watson as he picked up a sandwich and left, she had briefly considered calling out to him, but in the end had decided against it. John Watson.. he really had to be one of the nicest most pure people Molly had ever met. "I hope he's okay, what if he needs some-thing?" she muttered more to herself than any-one else as the door closed behind the good doctor. One of the kindest people in the world.

Sherlock had been right, people always tried to hide things, but towards Sherlock hiding would be futile and just prove the detective further in his belief that humanity was and always would be sick and dirty, not worth giving an second glance nor thought. John was different though, John didn't try to put up an image of being a nice good person, he didn't need to prove any-thing to any-one, pretend or try to convince. he just was.. kind of like. Molly had to blush by the admission, herself.

She remembered the words that stranger woman at the grave-yard had said. Sherlock collects the selected few, the selected few he deemed trust-worthy, and what made then so trust-worthy? Molly couldn't help but be proud, because they were genuinely good people, deemed worthy and good by Sherlock Holmes himself.

"But what I am saying sweet-heart." Amanda's stream of words got Molly out of her own thought stream ones again. "You really need to stop being so worried about what other people need, that's all that's ever on your mind, what do she need, what does he need. Sweety." Amanda looked a little sternly at Molly. "What do _you _need?"

"Oh, I got every-thing I need." Molly flustered.

"Then put some crop on the top, just some-thing." Amanda rolled her eyes. "You are to good to walk around alone in that little apartment of yours, but heaven knows it would be difficult to find one as good as you, but at least you can try."

Molly smiled vaguely as she felt the warm rush going to her checks. Even as she had gotten back to work, she couldn't help but feel uplifted, even as she carefully cut open another corpse, what made her jump how-ever, was the loud voices, loud voices coming from the police men.

"I don't care what you think! Just figure it out!" a voice snapped.. a familiar voice. Molly knitted her brows in recognition. It was Greg Lestrade, why was he so upset? Lestrade was never upset, he was one of the most patient men in the force, always able to take a step back and view a situation from a logical perspective, which probably was also why he was the only one able to work with Sherlock back in the day, all though even for him that had been a hard task. If he was upset.. some-thing had to be terrible the matter.

And he was still obviously both angry and upset as they entered her little lab to look at the body, as professionally as Molly could she explained the toxis she had found in the elder man, and how it could indeed be poison, soon Lestrade turned away and started disguising with one from his team in the corner. Still his voice was hissing and his persona sending that angry air.. now that Molly had gotten a closer look at him, he also looked dead tired and exhausted, like he barely could keep himself up.

"What is..." Molly whispered to one of the younger detectives still looking at the body.

"Up with the inspector?" the young ginger man replied. "Keep it under wrap all right," He asked of Molly whom nodded her consent. "the misses left him. And it seems for good this time."

"Oh no." Molly sighed. "And he tried so hard." She really did feel sorry for Greg, his wife had been the love of his life, they had two wonderful kids together. Molly had seen them a few times, and this wasn't the first time that woman had been sleeping around, ones before she had threatened to leave with another only to come back.. Then Sherlock straight up informed she was still cheating on Greg at that christmas party, but still Lestrade had tried to make it work with all of his might, out of sheer love for the children. Judging from his agitated state, it indeed seemed it was now over for him and the wife, and he was angry about it. as could be seem the way he uncharacteristic stormed out.

In a little time, Molly did what seemed natural to her, she bought two cups of coffee, and easily found Lestrade standing outside as he was smoking a cigarette. "Here." she reached him the one cup. "You look like you could fall dead a sleep any second."

"Oh, Molly.. thanks." Lestrade flushed awkwardly accepting the cup.

"heard about Elisabeth." Molly muttered beneath her breath. "I'm sorry."

"Njah, it was stupid of me to keep on trying, our marriage was a failure years ago. She was right when she said I didn't trust her, how could I? she hasn't exactly proven herself trust-worthy." Lestrade muttered rather sourly. "Damn that Sherlock, he of cause had to be absolutely right every-time he pointed out that she was sleeping around." he hissed through his teethes.

"So you preferred to not have known?" Molly asked.

"No. It's better this way." Lestrade muttered to himself. "I am just angry I didn't admit it sooner." he gritted. "Why would I have to ever know Sherlock, he had to make me realise you just can't trust people. _At all!_" he stated sounding almost hopeless in that last statement.

Molly tried to find some words.. any-thing. It was hard, living in this world where people did lie so much. "He trusted you though." Molly pointed out nothing having to say the name. Sherlock trusted Greg, he was one of the few people Sherlock had collected under his wing.

Lestrade blinked in surprised. "Well, I don't want to flatter myself, but in his own way perhaps." he nervously scratched his ear.

"He did." Molly insisted. "Though I suppose you're right, what is the use, one man I dated turned out to be a world class murdering criminal after all... What I wouldn't give for just one trust-worthy friend in arm to lean upon." she muttered. "that is precisely what I would need." she stated before glancing up, and then looked at Greg who was sipping at his coffee. She froze, just looked at him... dependent, pure trust-worthy police inspector.

As Lestrade had taking his drink he got aware that he was being looked at and turned his head to look back at Molly with knitted brows. "What?" he asked.

"I was just.." Molly flushed. "How about dinner? Soon... if it's not to early."

Stunned Lestrade looked at her, blinked one time, then his eyes softened and a smile played on his lips. "That would be lovely." he told. "I would like that." he admitted.

Molly smiled back at her, a tiny yet genuinely warm smile. "A nice evening out, I believe that is just what the two of us need, don't you?"


	4. Chapter 4

It was unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable, even though it had been fact for a week now, John was still questioning his own sanity.

Sherlock Holmes, his best friend and comrade in war… was back.

And John, upon their re-introducing he had been aggravated, angry, frustrated, and didn't feel the least bad about having send a fist straight into Sherlocks face almost breaking the detectives nose.

But now, as John strolled down the street, often had to run two or three steps in order to keep up with the tall detective, John could may try to suppress it, try to deny. But why honestly bother? When he was indeed, happy.

For the first time in a long time, he was allowed to just be happy, why deny himself that precious gift? He shook his head as he laughed.

Sherlock stopped up, almost making John bump right into him. "What?" John blinked confused.

Sherlock blinked right back at him. "What?"

John frowned. "Sherlock, what?" he asked.

"You laughed." Sherlock pointed out. "What is so funny?" he asked looking around as if he suspected to have overlooked a clown some-where, which was impossible, Sherlock observed and saw everything.

"Aren't a man allowed to smile without any particular reason?" John asked. "Just because he feels like."

Sherlock snorted. "That doesn't make any sense."

"To you it probably doesn't." John sighed deeply.

Sherlock slightly lifted an eye-brow. "Maybe I could learn to understand it." He suggested.

"You Sherlock?" John asked. "Learning to be happy about the boring and mundane? Now that would be a miracle."

"As big as raising from the dead?" Sherlock asked as he gracefully stepped aside to let a smaller family consistent of mother and her three children pass without having to step out on the road.

John was silent for a while, having observed the seemingly insignificant action of Sherlocks then looked up the detective. "Sort of." He at last breathed as the two starting walking again. "Why would you even want to learn how to appreciate the boring aspects of life?" John asked. "You enjoy your adventures as they are."

"You could say some-thing a bit odd happened when I was.. erh, out there." Sherlock sighed.

"What?" John asked, Sherlock kept quiet. "Come on, my therapist always says it doesn't matter whom you say it to as long as you say it."

"Your therapist is a lousy therapist." Sherlock made aware.

"That's not fair." John answered back. "She did what she could, now tell me, why would Sherlock Holmes ever want to learn how to be distracted by some-thing which has absolutely nothing to do with a case?"

Sherlock exhaled. "There was a point, while I was out there hunting Moriartys men, trying to shut down his business.. there was a point." He stopped for a moment before continuing. "That I got tired." He then at last admitted. "I was tired of running around, tired of the case, tired of doing it. I never tried to be tired of it before. I have been tired of the boredom, never the case."

"Sounds like you are getting older." John smiled to himself.

"Oh please." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm still not Mycroft you know."

"No but you…" John halted in his own words, blinked one time and then continued. "You changed Sherlock." He told.

"Just because I care a little about the people around me." Sherlock muttered.

"For you, that is a major change." John told honestly.

Sherlock gritted his teethes as if Johns words had seriously scorned him and strode forward with twice the speed as before.

"Hey wait up!" John had to yell and literately run as his shorts legs all ready barely could keep up with Sherlocks usually quick pace.

So quick was Sherlock that he bumped into a woman whom almost feel on the ground and dropped her hand-back. "Oh so sorry!" Sherlock managed to capture the unfortunate woman and get her back on her feed, without second thought he picked up her handbag and gave it to her. "I didn't see where I was going." He apologised.

"Oh that's all right." The woman breathed. "Thank you." And she was on her way.

John merely had to stand there with a smug grin on his face as he looked on Sherlock.

"Shut up." Sherlock snorted all ready on his way ones again.

"Oh come on it's not all that bad." John breathed having to fight to keep up. "Having died, left to face the world and all of your fears all on your own, realising what you had lost, coming back, it would be strange if you hadn't changed." He told only for Sherlock to quicked his pace to almost running. "And it's in a good way to." John was almost out of breath at that point. "You are not acting so much like a child any-more."

"I am seriously starting question why I decided to move back in with you." Sherlock muttered sourly. "With my new found enormous fame, I can get as much as I want for the cases I solve."

"So you are saying you missed me?" John asked.

"Don't be ridicules." Sherlock hissed as they entered Hyde park. "I had thought that would go without saying, that's the trouble with you ordinary people, way to much talk." He muttered.

"Sherlock please." At last John had stopped his run now gaping for air. "I'm not as young as I used to." He then admitted grabbing his chest.

"Nonsense." Sherlock snorted all though he had stopped. "You are just out of training, that's all." He stated in a much more careful voice. "I'm not ready to address you as 'old chap' just yet."

"Thanks for the consideration." John snorted.

For a while they walked in silence through the park, it was honestly the sort of company Sherlock liked the best from John, and John returned that favour, it was not a bad thing really, they just both enjoyed being in each others presence, without having to say any-thing or spell any-thing out, just being, without any awkward silence or any need to say or do any-thing.

Laughter and cheer came from across the park, a woman a man and to laughing children, they sounded genuinely happy and it made John smile, it even made Sherlock smile, yet as they moved into view of the noise. Both stopped up in a stun.

Both detective and Doctor were absolutely and utterly stunned, for the woman whom laughed as she hoisted a boy by the rough age of five up and down up and down, were none other than Molly Hooper.

"They are not her children are they?" John whispered.

"Don't be ridicules I wasn't gone that long." Sherlock hissed back. "She didn't have children and she wasn't highly pregnant when I left, so if she had a child that child would have to be two at the very most, clearly they are Lestrades."

John choked as he first now discovered that it was Greg whom was the man, and he carried a little girl by the rough age of three on his shoulders.

Slowly Gregs head turned, and he brightened up in recognition by the sight of them, waving at them, gesturing them to come over, he said some-thing to Molly whom turned her head and started to grin to.

"Well urh.." John swallowed. "I don't suppose we have much choice."

"You deduced correctly." Sherlock shrugged. "Come along." And as they walked towards them Sherlock put up a mask John had seen so many times before, that smile, which an average joe would assume was a happy mans greeting, but John knew was as fake as could, and coming from Sherlock it was just unnerving. "Miss Hooper." He greeted. "Lestrade."

"SHERLOCK!" Molly smiled widely, and because she just was Molly, John knew it was genuine as could be as she let down the boy and almost jumped towards Sherlock, only to halt in front of him and silence as she looked down.

"Molly." Sherlock whispered in a much more genuine voice and gently laid an arm around her. "It's good to see you."

John averted his eyes from the scene deciding to leave them alone, instead cleared his throat as he talked to Lestrade. "Greg." He politely nodded. "It's been what, a week?" he asked.

"Yeah, but didn't have much time to talk, trying to save the queen and all that." Greg sniffed. "It was quite a mess Sherlock left behind himself coming back from the dead."

"You looked like you had a heart-attack when you saw him." John pointed out.

"I felt like I had an heart-attack." Greg told bluntly. "So how.." he looked carefully a Sherlock whom together with Molly talked to the little boy. "Is he?" he then asked carefully.

"Sherlock he's.." John hesitated slightly. "Unusually approachable." He then admitted. "He takes more care of treating me and Hudson well, all though not all the time, he keeps back his opinions to avoid trouble, it's only been a week, but a week without a case and Sherlock not being bored.. It's unusual." he told. "I think that Sherlock has some-how.. _mellowed." _the last word was uttered in such disbelief that Lestrade couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, give him some time, I'm sure he'll be back to his gitty self with a case or two." Greg told in his chuckle.

"Partially yeas, but he's changed Greg." John sighed. "He's tired from all the exile, I think he just needs to rest right now. So how about you?" he asked.

"Happy as can be, I get to see my kids almost every-day, I got the best wife in the entire world." Greg smiled happily.

"So it worked out between you and Elisabeth?" John asked.

"No, Elisabeth doesn't even want to see the kids, she just wasn't worth it. At all!" Greg told honestly, then looked at Molly. "But she is. Everything John, She is a pearl, worth everything."

John turned to Molly and saw the golden band on her finger. "You.. and?" he asked and then shook his head. "Congratulations!" he stated grabbing Gregs hand. "How long?" he asked.

"Dated one year been married another year." Greg told.

"And the kids?" John asked.

"Look at them, she's a better mother to them then their real mother, they love her." Greg gestured at them. "You honestly would never be able to tell that they are not hers, she takes such good care of them."

"Because I love them sweety." Molly told as she had sneaked up on them and kissed Greg on the cheek.

Sherlock looked at them with a genuine smile on his face as he had ended up holding the boy, it didn't seem like he minded at all though, he were actually genuinely laughing, some-thing old Sherlock would probably not have done in this situation.

It was such a surprisingly pleasant encounter, John would never have dreamed of it being so pleasant with Sherlock involved, but there it was, they simply talked, shared memories, smiled, laughed, promised to see each other again soon and parted ways so Sherlock and John could reach their appointment.

"That was. Nice." John commented.

"It was." Sherlock admitted.

"Nice of you to be nice to them." John then told.

"I wanted to, maybe you are right, I've changed." Sherlock admitted. "But not to much, it's very nice they can have all that, I would never be able to."

"No, it's not you." John shrugged. "You just need to be out there on adventure."

"For how-ever long it lasts." Sherlock nodded.


End file.
